


Parchment and Quill

by Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandonment, Anal Beads, Blow Job, Cervical Penetration, Cock Rings, Consensual bondage, Depression, Erotica, F/M, Hand Job, Improvised Sex Toys, Oral Sex, Rimming, Vaginal Sex, Vine (tentacle) Sex, dubious consent maybe, mentions of suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 19,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl/pseuds/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl
Summary: According to the ancient lore of her people, the spoken word carries the power to create and to destroy. It is for this reason that Ven’tar always used her words judiciously, never recklessly, lest they take what is not hers to take. As she awakens in the afterlife, alone and amnesic, she discovers that her own words possess a power she never knew. Day after day, she writes to recover what once was lost, what once was... stolen. And when she finally meets her love from ages past, she wields what she has now mastered: the power of the spoken word to heal and restore to Lotor everything that had been so mercilessly stripped away.





	1. Seraphic Fury

Immobilized by a crushing asphyxiation and seized by an exquisite pain shooting through her body as the rancid smoke seared her bleary eyes and burned her parched throat, the last thing she silently cried was the name of her beloved.

Her awakening was sudden, as her eyes flew open and she gasped for a desperate breath of air. She tried to assess her surroundings but there was little to examine. She tried to call for help but there was no answer. As she stood and wished aloud to go home, the ground beneath her suddenly shifted as an earthy, musty scent of a lush forest rose to greet her senses and she felt the soft grasses part beneath her feet. The gentle rays of a setting sun shone through a magnificent expanse of crimson, crepuscular clouds. Ven’tar expected, and even wanted to feel frightened, but fear was not a willing participant in her current state. As she walked forward toward a distant luscent glow, her surroundings adopted a beckoning familiarity. She sat down beside the little babbling brook she knew so well and dipped her hand in its cool waters. Though her senses had awakened to her peaceful surroundings, her heart felt blunted and dull. She caught fleeting glimpses of her previous life but they seemed incomplete somehow. And as the distant light compelled her, she remained tethered to her past, neither able to move forward, nor carry on to her destination. Thinking aloud with amusement that she should write about this strange state of affairs, she felt a parchment and quill appear underneath her hand. She immediately tried to untangle the jumble of emotions welling up within her, allowing the words to flow freely onto her page. With every word, and every phrase, the tears begin to fall freely and the unremitting ache inside her threatened to consume her. All at once, as her memories sharpened into focus, she recalled, replete with horror, the events that had lead to her death.

Billowed clouds of candied fluff,  
Lazy, lethargic, woolly and wearied.  
Willowy white, waxing and waning  
Secret swirls, seething and seeking,  
Ashen with ire, wrought with rage,  
Sundry storms of seraphic fury,  
Unleashed, unquenched, undone.  
Demons. Darkened. Smoke. Sacked.  
Unknowing, unfailing, unyielding.

Ven’tar gasped as she remembered and wrote her final phrase.

Immortal. Eternal. Sunlight.  
Love.


	2. Viridian Summer

The first time she saw his face, she trembled breathlessly. Though he had not yet spoken a word to her, she could already see the kindness in his eyes, and the compassion in his heart. Hers were a people of few words. The spoken word was greatly esteemed, chosen with care, and uttered with reverence. Instead, her kind spoke with all of their senses, with subtle eye movements and graceful hand gestures, chemical melodies and bioluminescent songs. They were deeply attuned to one another and to the natural world. The first time he spoke to her, she lingered on his every word. He deftly wove such an intricate verbal tapestry that she was entirely enraptured by him. And the first time he showed her poetry, she cried tears of joy, having never known the beauty words could possess. She, in turn, taught him the lingua franca of their luminescent antennae: it was a Morse code of sorts and she fondly recalled the many hours of gentle guidance and of endless giggles at his foibles. “Jubilant...” she whispered as her memories took flight and carried her back to a warm, summer’s evening.

“Ven, where are we headed?” Lotor asks breathlessly as she continued to take him by the hand, running barefoot through the soft grass, enveloped in the dewy fragrance of nocturnal hawthorn blooms. She looks back at him with a mischievous smile. “Last lesson today,” she replies, the trill of her voice joining the hum of the evening serenade.

She suddenly turns to embrace him and before he realizes, she has expertly unfastened half of his battle armour. In several swift motions, she has shed their clothing as she plunges past the soft bulrushes and pulls him into a hidden lagoon. She giggles again. Though they had been intimate many times before, he was still so unsure of himself. So stiff, so awkward, and so uncertain. Sighing deeply, she pulls him close to her, tracing her fingers delicately over his scarred chest, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

“Well... sp... spring. End...less Wellspring!” he says as his rapt attention is focused on the coded glimmering lights before him. It was difficult to decipher, as her antennae flashed without synchronicity; the recipient had to simultaneously decode nouns and their respective descriptors. 

“Rising... ri...River.” Lotor pauses and then softly chuckles. “So you stripped me of my clothing and pulled me into a random pond to teach me words related to water?”

She declines to answer. She smiles affectionately as she relays the last pairing. 

“F... flash Flood,” he says proudly. All of a sudden, she wordlessly summons a spectacular display of illuminated flowers and birds. Lotor knew her people also communicated with their surroundings via volatile organic compounds but he had never seen such astounding beauty from such ordinary origins. As he looks around him in awe, and reaches to touch the nearest fluttering firebird, he is filled with warmth as she pulls him into another tender kiss. From his sudden inhaled breath, she knew he now understood. There was no word for love in her language. It was conveyed solely by metaphor and imagery.

He breaks apart from her to stare at her in shock and tries to blink away his disbelief. She sets her hand over his heart and looks into his piercing azure eyes with immense admiration and gratitude. Her gaze drifts down the curve of his face and lingers on the desperate yearning of his parted mouth. She could guess from his reaction that he had never experienced love before; pulling him to her and kissing him more passionately this time, together they are enveloped in a sea of bliss, falling into the quiet aqua depths. As he runs his hands over her delicate skin and returns her affection with abandon, she silently vows to love him with everything she has.

Ven’tar squeezed her eyes shut in despair. Her sweet memories were now so embittered with the enduring pain of loneliness and tainted with the cruelty of loss. She had written her very first poem as a gift to celebrate his successes and she never even had the chance to give it to him before she and her people had been destroyed. As the sadness welled up within her, she cried once more, inwardly clutching the only thing she had left from him: the gift of poetry. As the waves of melancholy washed over her, she resolved to write for him until the day they could be reunited once more. She called forth another piece of parchment and poured out her heart.

Violet winds,  
Vivid dreams,  
Lavender skies,  
Vibrant light,  
When first I saw your face.

Verdant flora,  
Fluttering wings,  
Viridian summer,  
Weathervane whirl,  
When first our lips met.

Volcanic seas,  
Lava Oceania,  
Violent waves,  
Storms unsung,  
When first I lay with you.


	3. Tranquil Lamentations

Time was simultaneously fluid and static for Ven’tar. How long had it been since she had arrived in this strange existence? She no longer knew. As her consciousness drifted through ages past, sifting through the frivolous to the fraught, she settled in an oasis within the shifting sands of her deserted memories.

Much time passes as they stand together in silence on the grand terrace, the fading twilight beckoning their gaze toward a delicate night sky bestrewn with starlight. The susurrous swirling of wind chimes, normally soothing and serene, only amplify the tension she feels in Lotor’s quiet suffering.

“Lotor, what disturbs you so?”

“It is nothing with which you need concern yourself. I do not wish to burden you.”

“Come, my troubled prince.” She leads him to a nearby planter filled with marshy plants. Plunging her hand into the murky depths, she retrieves a submerged and rotted stem, and smiles playfully as she gives it to him.

“You have my gratitude?” he says with amusement, as he dangles it away from himself.

She sets her hand on his heart as she was often apt to do and laughs. It was a very intimate gesture reserved for one’s beloved, though she had yet to tell him of its significance. “When waterlogged with regret, one may eventually drown with despair. May I retrieve you from your heartache?”

He smiles gratefully at her. Her tender affections were a beacon of light in the eternal darkness of his father’s regime, and the metaphors of her people, some of the most beautiful turn of phrase he had ever encountered. Lotor exhales his frustration and pain. “For my entire life, my father has refused to tell me anything of my mother, of my origins, and of my people. I did not even know we were called Alteans...” he trails off. 

She watches him turn away from her to stare distantly at the horizon. He finally is able to say, “My father destroyed them. He obliterated their home world and wiped them out.”

Ven’tar clasps her hands to her mouth in abject horror. She knew their subjugation had been rife with base cruelty but even she had not imagined the depth of depravity and wickedness Zarkon was capable of. So that’s what Lotor had been up to when he would disappear for days. He had been researching his origins. With great tenderness, and with tears streaming down her face, she wordlessly embraces him from behind. As Lotor grasps her hands tightly, she releases a chemical cascade of melancholy. Within mere moments, the landscape is flooded with an amethyst iridescence. As waves of Entaians join the violet requiem, the cool night air becomes redolent of comfort and sweetness, if such a scent was possible. As he breathes in the fragrance of tranquil lamentation, Lotor feels nostalgic for a place he has never been. It would forever be an unforgettable experience for him as the entire land mourned with him. For once in his wretched life, he wasn’t entirely alone in his grief. Although no words are exchanged, entire lifetimes of sadness and yearning are shared between the two of them.

When he is finally able to speak, he says in a barely audible whisper, “Thank you, my sweet love.” 

Her breath catches, and her heart skips. It was the first time he had spoken of love. He leans his head against hers and kisses her tenderly. A windstorm of passion suddenly overtakes him, however, as he unclasps her cloak and deftly slides his hands beneath her tunic. Abandoning caution, and lost in the throes of desire, he makes love to her under the starry sky. 

Ven’tar laid on the soft, mossy ground, listening the babbling brook beside her, her hand dangling listlessly into its watery depths. Time, in whatever manifestation it now took, did not lessen her pain. There were piles of parchment beside her, each as sorrowful as the last. She recalled that Lotor had later spoken of the Alteans and their legends of old. Lifegivers he had called them. Alteans wielded power by touch. She sat upright with sudden realization. Could it be...? Entaians also had legends of the Ancients who possessed life-giving powers, yet, such power was conferred by the spoken word. She felt silly giving it a go, but quite honestly, did she have anything to lose? She had already lost it all. 

“I want to see Lotor.”

She tried not to feel disappointment when nothing happened. After all, it was a fanciful thought. Instead, she sighed and channeled her grief into her work.

Rainkiss of dawn  
A radiant dew  
Lustrous and lush   
Sprinkled embrace

Cloudburst of day  
Felicitous fall...

She sat still for a long time, rewriting and crossing out several phrases. The words weren’t coming to her today. She had exhausted all possible water metaphors and was uncertain of how to proceed. Her thoughts had been consumed by only one thing lately and nothing was changing. The first precept of the ancient teachings then echoed faintly in her mind. All living beings have the same origin; harmony with all is harmony within. Diving deep within herself, she plucked the detritus and debris from the weathered shores of her heart. Hesitant and uncertain, she stood there with her arms full of anger, bitterness, and pain. As the turbulent waters continued to churn within, she spoke.

“Dying for another, one is ennobled. Living for another, one is enlightened.  
Loving another, one is tranquil. Loving all, one is transcendent.”

For the first time, a gentle stirring of hope alighted on her deep sorrow before lifting it away, like the graceful dance of entaian firebirds. With her eyes closed in her quiet contemplation, she was unaware of the faint glow of her facial markings.


	4. Caustic Caucophony

Lotor’s admission had shaken her to the core. Ven’tar knew how dedicated and earnest her young prince was, and how eager he was to please his father. However, his father was beyond reason, beyond cruelty, and beyond reach. She would have to begin her own preparations to protect her people. She had asked Lotor if he was nervous on that fateful day, and his reply of reassurance was to be expected. The poor child was still so naive. Her enemy and even her lover had underestimated her shrewd foresight, her demure demeanour the perfect mask of deception.

When Haggar had incapacitated Lotor, it was a crackling of consummate malice Ven’tar never imagined was possible. She had a split second decision to make. She could help her beloved or she could save her people. With a crushed heart and one last glance at Lotor lying in a smoking heap, she only had moments before Haggar turned to attack her. Running to take cover, she continued to release her most potent attack; as the air became thick with a putrid warcry, swarms of insects came to her beck and call, shielding her from the witch’s line of sight. The land was flooded by a crimson caterwaul, as every creature answered her chemical call to arms. Ven’tar would stay to fight the witch for as long as she could, to give her kin and kind time to flee. 

Energy obeys rules. She had no time to think more upon it, for her enemy was much too strong. Bait, flee, and ambush would be her only possible recourse. Unbeknownst to Lotor, she had been bathing him in her own scent since his admission, as part of her wartime preparations. The entire planet knew who was friend and who was foe and every intruder was now targeted for attack. 

Wave after wave of dead marshhoppers rained down in the grand chambers, as an increasingly flustered Haggar indiscriminately launched her energy attacks. Their demise saddened Ven’tar, for she treasured every life, but their sacrifice would not be in vain. Haggar was now marked by so pungent and acrid an odour that platoons of vines sprung forth from the parliament gardens. The haughty priestess initially ignored them and focused her attacks on Ven’tar, but discovered too late their sticky secretions were so caustic, they destroyed both themselves and the flesh of their enemies. 

Infuriated by this trickery, she disappeared from view, jetting off to her astral plane of existence. It was somewhat humiliating, to be honest, being forced to use such high level tactics against lowly plants and insects. The disgusting little tramp would pay. Did she think she could hide from Zarkon’s almighty priestess? Her hideously simple cloak was visible behind an indwelling tree. As Haggar continued on with her sinister ruminations, little did she know, that the poison seeping into her body through her open wounds would exponentially amplify pain sensitivity.

Flying forward through a strangely parched tangle of trees to render an eternal retribution to the insolent wench, Haggar summoned her palmar fulmination. Ven’tar braced for impact. This was her only chance. Timing was everything. As the witch discharged her electrical shock at the empty cloak, she was suddenly drenched with water. Her own attack arched back toward herself and enveloped her in a searing fire. With her sense of pain infinitely heightened, Haggar fell unconscious. Ven’tar, who was sopping wet with the cactuar vines she unleashed, also fell prey to Haggar’s mercilessness. As her consciousness was extinguished, she silently said her final farewells.

She would awaken briefly as her world burned furiously under Zarkon’s inclement wrath, with a lingering hope she had bought enough time for most of her people to escape. Haggar had been unavailable to destroy the kamikaze waves of animal and plant contingents whose suicide missions had only one purpose: to buy as much time as possible to allow their own kind to escape to the underground tunnels built by her people. With the Galra empire monitoring their every move, the Entaians had no chance to escape to the skies with their primitive spacefaring technology. Their only option had been to flee underground. Entire storerooms of seeds and spores had been saved in bunkers. Endless storerooms of supplies packed to sustain their people during prolonged famine and drought already existed...

Today, Ven’tar’s thoughts drifted aimlessly. She was stranded on this desert island of existence, forsaken and alone. She had briefly felt better yesterday, but felt even worse today. What was even the point of it all? Her determination was waning and her strength completely sapped. Her tears were gone. She couldn’t even cry anymore. What do you do with all the hurt and sorrow and anger and bitterness when they wash up on the shore again? 

Just keep swimming...

For the first time, she giggled as she came to a sudden epiphany. She told the brook to swell and it did. As she plunged into its freshwater depths, she remembered the second precept of the ancients: Seek peace and do no harm. For the measure of their wickedness will always be eclipsed by the measure of good in the universe. Another ray of hope burst through the dreary, downtrodden storm clouds. They had taken her life but they hadn’t taken her soul. They had taken her planet, but they hadn’t taken her world. They were tainted with evil, but they had not tainted her.

When Ven’tar emerged from her watery refuge, there was someone waiting for her on the shore.


	5. Guardian Grimalkin

As she breached the surface of the water, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight glistening on the glassy surface and yet another to even realize she was not alone. The silhouetted figure stood silently with a kindly smile on her face. 

“Greetings, our child of light,” echoed her angelic voice throughout the hushed forest.

Ven’tar startled and scrambled out of the water. Though she had never met her before, she knew instinctively who she was and was momentarily transfixed by her resplendent beauty. As ageless and as brilliant as the sun, breaking through the umbral catacombs of despair, her verdant shimmer the breath of life itself. After a moment of stunned awe, Ven’tar remembered her manners and offered her outstretched hands. 

“You are the Ancient Mother, the one from whom we received the revered teachings,” she whispered.

As she felt her hands grasped tightly, Ven’tar was infused with a deep sense of serenity and contentedness.

“Peace upon thee. Yea, prithee walk with us, sweeting.”

“How are you here with me?”

“Thenceforth the first breath of life, we preside over all of life. Howbeit, a loathly pestilence befalls our kin, our calm discoloured by chaos, and harmony debased by discord.”

“Do you know if many of them survived? Did they escape Zarkon’s wrath?”

“Aggrieved are we to speak of the fallen for fair is rendered foul. Verily, innumerable more would have perished without thy prescience and compassion.”

Ven’tar found she could not immediately understand many of the old words spoken to her, but was able to more or less deduce their meaning from context. How she revelled in the ancient one’s presence, but unfortunately, like any pleasant dream, it would come to end too soon. 

“Come hither, our time draweth nigh. We come, Graymalkin.”

“Why, I don’t understand what is happening. And what is a grimalkin?” She thought Lotor had said it in passing once before but his vocabulary far exceeded her own and she could not recall what it meant. She did love that he used archaic words sometimes. 

“To forfend calamity will demand our life, we give it freely to forgo such strife. Guardian of life, defender of peace, shall he judge thy worth and esteem. Should thou farest commendably well, our mantle shall pass forthwith unto thee.”

“Just a moment, my Lady, I don’t understand. What have I to do with your role?”

The Ancient One kissed her lightly on the forehead. “All of our knowledge is already within. It is time. Fare thee well, child.”

As quickly as she came she was gone, her light a remnant of ages past. Her surroundings shifted once again to a primitive land Ven’tar was unfamiliar with. She lamented her sorely brief time with the only contact she had had in ages and the infuriatingly cryptic messages left to her to decipher. Pass the mantle? It was foolishness. How could she possibly assume such an infinitely important role? Well, she thought with amusement, that is if she passed this weird test at all. Maybe she would fail and go back to writing poetry. She really didn’t want to refer to herself in first person plural anyway. Lotor once taught her what that was called. Pluralis maestatis, she thought longingly. How she missed him. Now, grimalkin. Oh, what was it again? It was so familiar, just on the tip of her tongue and a little bit beyond her grasp. 

She had no time to think on it further for a large feline beast was rapidly approaching her, radiant with silver light. It was beautiful. Yet, it seemed aggressive and rose to attack. Gasping with shock, Ven’tar dove out of the way, narrowly missing its formidable jowls. Was this the test? It was horrible and yet, she felt the same serenity she did when she was speaking to the Ancient Mother. The lion spun around and charged at her again. Again and again, she fled, while attempting to analyze the situation. Should she attack? Her thoughts lingered on the second precept: seek peace and do no harm. Should she surrender? What good was she if she was dead? What mantle could she assume then? And then Lotor’s words came back to her. A grimalkin is a domesticated cat. 

“Peace upon you,” she said authoritatively. “Peace and be still, Graymalkin.”

To her utter astonishment, the giant beast issued a ground-shaking roar, submitted to her, and lay at her feet. 

The Ancient Mother’s voice resounded once again in her thoughts and echoed through the amber skies, though no words were spoken. Ven’tar simply knew now that had she attacked, she would have failed, and had she surrendered she would have been granted the secret of life. But because she tamed the beast and spoke its name, she now held the power of both life and death.


	6. Beauty from the Ashes

Ven’tar stood still for several moments. She looked around her and she had returned to the little nook she called her home now. She automatically looked down at herself to examine her appearance and to her relief, she had not changed. There was, however, a sizeable companion still laying at her feet. 

“What do I do now, Graymalkin?” she heard herself asking. Sighing deeply, she sat down beside the amiable beast to stroke its fur. How intriguing. It felt like gentle ocean waves lapping the shore, a soft deception hiding the power raging just beneath the surface. “I do not know what my role is exactly. The ancient mother never...” 

She stopped. The lion hadn’t changed its casual lounging and in fact, had flopped onto its back for belly rubs. Tentatively approaching the little brook, she peered into its crystalline depths, while scratching Graymalkin under his chin. He gave a low, contented rumble of approval. 

“Show me Lotor,” she whispered without hesitation. Ven’tar watched as her rippled reflection transformed into a smouldering and charred wasteland. It took her a moment to realize that it was her home world, so complete was its untimely and tragic ruination. Her companion suddenly stood and beckoned her with a single glance to plunge into the watery depths. They both resurfaced to bear witness to a crudely and hastily made mass burial ground; there crouched Lotor, alone and broken, as he cried silently over her grave. All of the decaphoebs of ruthless training to kill his emotions and not betray weakness were tossed aside. It was the first time he had shed tears in a very long time.

He had secretly returned after he had been exiled to try to find her but instead, was devastated to discover she too had succumbed to the absolute annhilation. It broke her heart to see him so distraught. He could not see her, or feel her touch but she threw her arms around him anyway. He could not hear her, but she spoke to him anyway.

“Peace upon you, my love. Peace and be still.”

He stopped and blinked several times as the scent of serenity washed over him, and a cooling calm extinguished the raging anger within. He could feel her presence but it defied explanation. The despair that enveloped him just a moment ago completely dissipated and he knew he wasn’t alone. 

“Lift your head once more, for hope is not lost. The measure of goodness that is within you will always overcome the measure of evil you have been subject to. And where the fires of malice destroy, the light of life will emerge from the ashes.”

As she spoke, seedlings sprung from the ground where she stood, and as she set her hand over his heart, she summoned a dazzling display of firebirds from their nearby refuge. Lotor didn’t really understand how any of this possible, but it was unmistakably her. He looked around him in awe and clasped his hand over hers. She was here, he thought, as he wiped his tears. With her newfound powers waning from inexperience, she faltered and gave him one last kiss on his forehead.

“I will be with you, always,” she promised as her guardian beast pulled her back to their plane of existence.

Lotor stood up, stunned by the entire experience. She always knew what he needed. He smiled sadly and exhaled his regret and loneliness. Even from beyond the grave, she still returned to him, so great was her measure of love. He never imagined there could exist such beauty from the ashes. Perhaps he would see her again one day. And it was this hope that gave him strength to keep going when all seemed lost. 

The happiness she felt seeing him once more was all encompassing. Time was meaningless now. A moment was the same as a thousand years. She cherished his tears, his sorrow, his happiness, his surprise, and his slight smile. Her elation was so profound, she could now find the strength to face what she had been running from since she arrived: the utter heartache of losing her only child. Her first poem was to have been a celebratory announcement to tell him of this grand news. 

She too, smiled sadly as he did. She sat down beside her lion companion and wiped away her tears while recalling how she had agonized over every word to make sure it was perfect. Ven’tar sighed deeply. The cycle of life would go on, even if she would experience tremendous loss. All was not lost. She found herself reciting it softly as she laid down against the warm fur and gazed into the chartreuse sky:

Breath of springtide,  
Brings blossoms of joy  
Fairborne and bright-eyed,  
A new baby boy.

As she spoke, sprouts and saplings once again unfurled their tendrils and tender shoots around her. And as she rolled over and cried into the fur of the gentle giant, one particularly large blossom trembled with ardour and zeal.


	7. Restful Reunion

The warmth of the sun on his face and the sweet fragrance of hawthorn blossoms invigorated all his senses. It was a scent he had not encountered in a very long time, and the nostalgia it brought quieted the turmoil within. His eyes fluttered open. All around him, a field of white flowers swayed in the breeze, and a vast expanse of open sky stretched beyond the lush landscape. He sharply inhaled to recognize the twittering of firebirds and stood quickly to assess his surroundings. He couldn’t recall how he arrived here nor could he immediately remember any recent events, but he was taken aback at the swell of emotion and sadness. Were these tears? He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Why did he feel such profound grief in this pleasant paradise?

“What is this place?” he wondered aloud as he walked toward a distant burbling brook. The fragrance was so familiar. He sat down at the water’s edge. He had been here before. Yes, many times, in fact. It was for... her that he had fought all of his life. He reached into his pocket, the one that had housed his most treasured possession. Lotor had found the beautifully engraved moonstone blossom she had meant to give him, still clutched tightly in her hand when he discovered her burned and lifeless body. The complete devastation he felt to read her first poem, and to know their first child had also been destroyed plunged him into such a crushing despair that he contemplated suicide. This was in fact, the very brook he had wanted to drown himself in, to cast away the wretched suffering that suffocated his being and asphyxiated his happiness. He had been on the brink of giving up completely when her presence came to him in the white fields of death. She had saved him, and gave him hope again. It was there, that grief converted to rage, and numbness sharpened to vengefulness. He would avenge the deaths of his beloved and of his child. No matter how long he had to toil. No matter the sacrifice. He would shed his innocence and assume a mantle of ruthlessness. No matter what it took, he would be the one to excise Zarkon’s malignant tyranny.

His pocket was empty.

A sudden heaviness within welled up and his chest tightened. There were fleeting memories of... his death? He started to panic. This couldn’t be happening. Was this the afterlife? No, no, it couldn’t end like this. So many more lives would be lost. His colony was lost. His people were lost. Haggar had free reign over the universe. He paced frantically and ran his hand through his hair which was quite atypical of him. All of his redoubled efforts throughout the many long ages had been all for naught. He had fought, and clawed, and scraped his way back to the top; failure after failure had not quelled his determination to bring peace once again. And everything had been stripped away in a matter of moments, by a flock of fledgling children, no less, fighting a war they couldn’t begin to understand. The one source of hope and light in his life had forsaken him. The sting of abandonment seized his heart. And the one thing he had kept at bay for millennia, despair, took root once more as he began to succumb to its insidious chokehold. 

Besieged by regret, and smothered by betrayal, he fell to the ground, but the warm winds of redress suddenly swept by, and he was enveloped in the essence of bliss. He knew it was her before he saw her. She emanated a faint luminescent glow and her smile of endless kindness took his breath away. No words were exchanged. She held him tightly to her for seemed to be an eternity and wept tears of joy. He shakily exhaled his disbelief and finally returned her embrace. When she looked at him once more, she kissed his cheek tenderly and acknowledged his pain.

“You are troubled, my love. Shall I retrieve you from your sorrow?”

He smiled gratefully to remember she had once said that to him long ago and embraced her once more. This time, he held her tightly to him and kissed her head just as he did before in ages past. “It has been many ages and yet, has your love for me not abated? Your appearance has changed, but how is it possible that you have not? I am loath to admit that perhaps I am not the same person since we were last together.”

“Are you not still Lotor?” she asked playfully.

“Well, yes, but I...” he faltered and he couldn’t bear to admit all he had done. All of the people he had sacrificed to attain his goals had died for nothing. He could barely stand to look her in the eye. He had failed when he could not afford to fail. 

“You have not seen the fruits of your labour, my love,” she whispered as she cupped his cheek. “Come.”

“Fruits of my labour? But I have failed in the most horrendous way and I was too... “ he paused in shame to say it aloud. “Too weak to prevent your undoing as well as that of your people.”

“On the contrary. Let us go to Entai’i.”

Ven’tar gently pressed a kiss onto his hand and led him with her through to her home world. He was rendered speechless at the flourishing flora and fauna as they emerged from the cool waters. The wisped cloud canopy was aflutter with twittering flocks of native fowl, the fields filled with the carefree laughter of children plucking flowers and berries. 

“Can this be true or is this a dream?” he asked in wonder.

“This was all possible because you trusted me with your sorrow and heartache. Your love and compassion for others was your greatest strength. And it was because of it that I was able to make preparations for my people and for all life on our planet.”

She continued to relate the sequence of events after Haggar had attacked him, and showed him how they had been able to stay under the radar of the galra empire. 

He was so relieved that so many had been saved. Even he, for all these millennia, had believed them lost. 

“Why did you not tell me? I could have assisted you in your preparations.”

“Oh my love, you were so innocent and earnest in thought, I could not risk them branding you a traitor. Your father was depraved enough to take your life, and held no love inside.”

“I am so sorry I failed to protect you and our child,” Lotor lamented. 

“You did no such thing, my love. You did everything you could to protect us. Come. There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

Ven’tar returns him to her place of refuge and he is astonished to see a radiant beast curled at the shoreline, guarding the largest hawthorn blossom he had ever seen. His relief to know that her people had been saved and all the ensuing questions were suddenly displaced by intrigue and wonder.

“That... is the same lion I saw at Oriande! Why is he here?” Lotor exclaimed.

“Oh, they are similar, but he is not the same one. The Alteans and Entaians descended from the same life givers, as did all the people of the universe. This one guards the secrets passed down to my people. Come, Graymalkin, please greet our new arrival.”

The lion issued a low rumble and set his paw on Lotor’s foot.

“He has a name and he listens to you?” Lotor asked incredulously. “Does this mean you are also a life giver?”

“I oversee all life. I restore what has been broken and heal what has been hurt.” Her smile was nearly imperceptible as she declined to tell him that justice belonged to her and was hers to mete out in the afterlife, as well. “Is your heart still troubled? You may find rest and peace here.”

He didn’t want to say anything more then. He was downtrodden and weary and all he wanted to do was hold her again. As he breathed in her scent and ran his hands over her soft skin, he buckled under the realization that she had never abandoned him and that he had never truly been alone. He hadn’t lost anything after all. Gathering her in his arms and kissing her tenderly, he was overwhelmed to realize that he belonged here. He was finally home.


	8. Ageless Affection

“Ven, these are exquisite,” Lotor exclaimed with wonder as he sifted through endless pages of parchment now bound into innumerable volumes. “There are poetry styles here that I am completely unfamiliar with! You wrote all of these?!”

“I was alone here for quite a long time before the ancient mother visited me. I did much writing then for you,” she said softly as she clasped his hands in hers, “in anticipation of the day we would be united once more.” 

He was visibly choked with emotion as he said in a much quieter voice, “No one has... ever done anything like this for me before.”

“You have suffered beyond what anyone should in your life. My heart was rent apart to witness your undue anguish, and yet you persevered with unparalleled patience and astonishing persistence for many long ages. At long last, may you find healing and happiness once more. I have prepared much for your arrival.”

He didn’t know what to say. Every revelation was more stunning than the last and he could hardly believe it was happening at all. He reflected on the broken relationship he had just been forcibly ejected from. It was so terribly capricious in comparison to Ven’tar’s ageless, enduring love, a love as immutable as the Entaian moons, yet as ephemerally beautiful in each fluid phase. Lotor blinked a few times and watched her tend to her blossoming garden. The striking contrast was... incomparable. They were both life givers. Yet life flourished under Ven’tar’s gentle hand whereas it was extinguished by the billions under Allura’s vindictive hand. He had made a grave mistake by taking her to Oriande. He never imagined that Alfor’s daughter was capable of such hatred and intemperate hostility until it was too late. Lotor exhaled his regret. 

He was hurting in so many ways, Ven’tar knew it would be a long road to recovery. She felt him watching her so she stopped what she was doing and approached him once more. Gathering him in her arms, she murmured, “When I arrived here, the heartache of losing you and our child crushed me. The only way I could cope was to pour out my heart onto paper. If it would help you to do the same, there seems to be an endless supply of parchment paper here. Know this, however, that as long as you’ll have me by your side, you will never again be alone again. I will never leave or abandon you.”

“I cannot express my profound gratitude, Ven. I am so sorry that you, in turn, had to endure such sorrow alone.”

“No, for that I am also grateful, love, if only to both understand and share in your suffering.”

He looked at her tenderly. Her selflessness was the same as it always had been and it was never more starkly apparent until now that there had never been another like her. “How I have longed for you,” were the only words he managed to choke out. 

“And I, you,” she whispered as she held him close to her. Lotor buried his face into her neck and closed his eyes for a long time. There was an inexplicable calm that permeated his being whenever he was with her. After a long embrace, he lifted his head to see the lion shift and grumble his malcontent at a nearby stone.

“Tell me,” Lotor asked with amusement as he looked to the white lion rumbling contentedly to itself near in its preferred spot, after it had satisfactorily cast away the irritating rock, “why does he always sit there near that giant flower? Is it a type of lion catnip?”

Ven’tar laughed. “Oh no, love. Graymalkin is tending to our sleeping child. We were awaiting your arrival before we awoke him.”

Lotor gasped in shock. “Our what? Our child!? I thought...”

“Many of the unborn are lost in this existence if their consciousness was not fully formed at death, their energy dissipated permanently into the universe; however, I have the ability to sustain them here. His life and growth occur according to my will.”

Tears welled up in his eyes at this incredible revelation. He never, in all of eternity, imagined he would be able to meet his child again.


	9. No Greater Love

“Ven, I never thought it possible,” Lotor said with alacrity. “This is more than I could have hoped for.” He paused momentarily to take it all in, but braced himself for inevitable heartache and disappointment. It was too good to be true. “I admit I still do not quite understand this existence. It is the afterlife, yes? Then what are we? Are we remnants of our consciousness? Is this real? Or is it merely a passing dream?”

“If we now think and feel, sorrow and rejoice, regret and love, is that not the very heart of existence?” She declined to tell him yet of their ultimate destination, for they seemed forever destined to be star-crossed and separated.

“That... is a valid point. And I do suppose of the two of us, you are the resident expert on this astral plane.”

“Come sit with me, my love.” She lead him to a shady nook underneath an elegant canopy of weeping worlwood trees. The mist from a nearby waterfall cast a glistening rainbow over the rushing waters and cooled the hot summer air. As they sat down together in the soft grasses, she laid his head down on her lap and said:

“Foolborn of folly, a vindictive plea  
Summons an evil, none can withstand;  
Warwraith awoken in wrath and fury,  
Baleful or buoyant, all fall at her hand.

Cantrips of bloodlust, betrayal, and hate,  
Eclipse of the sun, corona of red:  
A darkness descends, never to abate,  
Until all are drubbed, defeated, or dead.”

She paused and gently traced her hand over his heart. He was bewildered to be awash with warmth and healing.

“Eternal bloodfall can have but one end;  
For measures of good will always outlast,  
Outwit and outweigh, uplift and defend,  
As measures of evil, love’s dawn will surpass. 

Inveighed against and branded a traitor,  
All falls away for our love is greater.”

With those last words, she clasped his hands tightly and Lotor felt a transcending calm within, where moments before, there had been great turmoil. 

“That was astoundingly beautiful,” he marvelled, revelling in her quiet eloquence before asking a few moments later, “I do not understand, however. How are you able to do this? I feel completely at peace.”

“Is healing not an integral part of life? While Alteans infuse life by touch, we infuse it by speech. My words have the gift of life, I would be remiss not to use them thusly. Though I do not do so out of duty, but out of love.”

“Ven, you... have never spoken of love outrightly before.”

She smiled. “I have been here for a long time. I have learned a couple things from the others here.”

“There are others here and we can interact with them?”

“Yes and no. Do you wish to know of them now or later? There is much to say on the matter,” she replied tenderly as she shifted to lay with him and nuzzled her head into his chest. She closed her eyes and relished the warmth in his embrace.

Lotor chuckled as he gazed at the cloudless sky and admired the resplendent canopy swaying in the breeze. “I realize it has been countless centuries since I have seen you. But I have not forgotten your roundabout way of saying, ‘Kiss now, talk later.’ In some ways, you have not changed at all.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and traced his finger down her neck, making her shiver. It was curious, this existence. Sensation, scent, and sight all remained intact. He wasn’t going to question it too long, however. Adulation from the Altean colony was not the same as adoration. Ven’tar was the only one in his life who had truly loved him. And he was here with her now. He leaned over her to kiss her lips and tenderly trace kisses over her face and down her neck. He had never forgotten how much she loved kisses. And he now had all the time in the world.


	10. Moon River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags and rating have been notably changed. This chapter is nsfw and Ven is not the demure and ingenue lover we all thought she was.

The silvery fluting of the midday current swirled through the cove, delivering a deep calm. A break in the sterling, sylvan canopy welcomed the afternoon sun, and warmed the lush, lavender fields beneath them. Dewy floral fragrances and woody notes of rain-soaked earth rose to greet Lotor’s senses, while a luminous display of burgeoning fairy rings glimmered their whimsical, heliotrope song. How many times had he longed to return to these golden afternoons of languor and lovemaking? He had lost count. 

Ven’tar gasped in surprise as he swept her into his arms and kissed her mercilessly. He was not the same bashful young man she remembered. He lavished so many kisses on her face that she laughed until she was breathless. She tried to push him away but he caught her by the wrists and held her arms above her. She squealed and wriggled but he lay on top of her before peppering her with even more kisses. As she threw her head back and laughed with abandon, he watched her tenderly for a moment, relishing that sweet trill of laughter, the crinkle of the corners of her eyes, and the crimson flush of her cheeks. As she was still giggling, he ever so gently cupped her face and lightly brushed his thumb over her lips. There was so much affection as he eagerly pressed his mouth to hers, he sent her heart fluttering. 

His breath stilled and he lingered for a moment. She was divine, and tasted like nectar and moonlight. He hesitated before he met her lips once more and hungrily licked her lower lip, drawing her into his mouth. The ebb and flow of desire, however, was soon eclipsed by a high tide of passion. Gripping her tightly, and plunging his tongue into her mouth, his sweeping dance gave her a heady high. Drawn in by desperation, he traced kisses down her neck, as he untied her silky robes and quickly shed his own attire. Nothing else mattered anymore. He just wanted her.

Kicking off his flight boots and the last of his gear, he briefly met her gaze. In this silent lull, she took his face in her hands and with her brow against his, very gently placed a single kiss on the corner of his mouth. The warmth of her breath, the flutter of her lashes, and the soft touch of her lips spoke of more affection than he had felt in a very long time. 

“Ven, you cannot know how deeply I have ached for you.”

With a sad kiss, she wordlessly spoke of that same longing she had also felt. When she opened her eyes, she lightly ran her hand over his heavily scarred chest. He bore so many more scars than she had ever seen, and she ached deeply. After many lifetimes of yearning and separation, he finally arrived before her broken within and without. There were so many layers of wreckage and rubble to wade through, she would have to start from the beginning as she did once before, long ago. 

As she turned back the tide of lust, Lotor found himself immersed in a well of comfort. Ven’tar beckoned the woodlands with her chemical signals, and their balmy glen was suddenly sweetened with coral hues of safety and solace. When she met his lips once more, each tender caress was buoyant and blithe. His desperation to drown the emptiness inside had been quieted. Gently turning him on his back, she climbed astride him. She then brushed her lip down his ear, sending shivers through him, before sucking on his earlobe. Lotor had actually forgotten how weak she could make him, feeling the warmth of her breath and wetness of her tongue. With her soft body pressed against his, he felt another quickening as she traced slow, sensual kisses down his neck and chest. He was marginally aware of the surrounding sweetness in the air deepening to a rosy ambrosia. It greatly heightened sensation. She took her time kissing every part of him, sending his heart racing when she finally ran her tongue down his torso. He couldn’t suppress a a soft moan. Just for a moment, she suddenly skimmed her fingertips over his sensitive skin, delicately following the same path as her kisses. The whimper that escaped his lips surprised even himself, as he became flushed heat and hard with arousal. 

She was about to take him in her mouth when without warning, Ven found herself flipped onto her back, cushioned in a sea of soft grass. Again, he held her down with her arms restrained above her, but this time, it felt as though an old part of himself had returned to her. 

“Not many lovers can make me come that way,” he murmured as he pushed apart her legs. She giggled as he kissed her but she tussled with him until he was once again underneath her. 

She arched an eyebrow. “I am not just any lover,” she smiled slyly.

Lotor cradled her head in one hand to protect her as he swiftly rolled her over but she was ready for him. Before he knew it, her vines had snaked around his limbs and he was immobilized. 

“Ven! You... you have never before sought to restrain me!” he exclaimed as he struggled against their tightening grip. 

“You were so bashful then, my love,” she purred in his ear. “And our time together was so brief. There were many things I had not yet revealed to you.”

He lay stock still; this revelation caught him off guard. Blinking a few times, he was now very aware of the crimson haze descending around him, a potent aphrodisiac awakening all of his senses. He never imagined he could find it so arousing to be restrained, and melted under her insistent, sultry gaze as she went down on him. Lotor bit his lip and uttered a soft grunt when she licked the length of his shaft and took him in her mouth. He had barely registered his shock when she made him groan aloud. Expertly swirling her tongue over the head of his throbbing cock, she brought her hand, lubricated with plant extract, to massage the base of his shaft. 

“Fuck, how do you know how to do that?” he breathed. 

She smiled as she met his gaze, her antennae signalling to him, “I know all your weaknesses.” Ven took him deeper into her mouth, and curled her tongue around him with each thrust. She pumped him more vigorously with her hand. Just when he was starting to moan louder, she targeted his first weakness by massaging the frenulum at the base of his shaft with her other thumb. With each thrust and each stroke, the wetness of her mouth and the sweep of her tongue, time slowed, and a raging river of pleasure coursed through him. Its deafening roar silenced everything else. He was no longer aware of the breeze, the firebirds, or even Graymalkin’s low rumbling on the other side of the cove. Lotor arched his back and panted in earnest. He didn’t even know he had a sensitive spot there. 

Time slowed for Ven’tar as well. She loved how he tasted, as his initial slick flowed into her mouth and how he felt, striking the back of her throat. She moaned in arousal, knowing she alone could make him feel like this.

“Fuck... nmmmh... I like that,” he groaned. 

She took him harder, faster, and deeper, but just enough to keep him at the brink of climax. Ven teased him until he came undone and started to plead. As his sighs and moans echoed throughout their small oasis, and he bucked against her, one of her tender vines coiled up his thigh and between his legs. At the height of his pleasure, it rubbed against his rectum before sliding inside him to massage his prostate gland. 

A riptide of ecstasy surged through him as he climaxed violently in her mouth, its undertow stripping him of his last few breaths, and pulling him under completely. He gasped breathlessly as he resurfaced from that oceanic euphoria, her vines finally releasing him from their captive pleasure, only to go under again as he watched her seductively swallow every bit of his seed and lick him clean. 

Lotor lay stunned for a few moments as she snuggled into the crook of his arm, and lay her head on his shoulder. After holding her tightly for a long time, he finally said, “I have lived for a long time, Ven, and I had no idea it could be like that.”

“This is just the beginning, my love,” she whispered. “We are at long last together once more, after an eternity in a saturnine separation.”

His heart was still pounding when he kissed her again. Her selenic love was never more beautiful than it was now.


	11. Baby Love

As the amorous couple tumbled from their field of flowers into a tidal pond, Lotor had many questions. But he didn’t exactly want to stop to ask. Never had he seen her compel forest vines in such a... tantalizing manner. The water was luxuriously warm and his heart was full; he had every intention of making love to her all afternoon. He sighed deeply. It was so peaceful and placid. The surrounding fragrance had relaxed into a sepia mist, enticing and enchanting his whole body.

Ven was more beautiful than he remembered her to be, her celadon complexion sun-kissed and lustrous in the shimmering pool. He had fallen captive to her smile the first time he saw it, wholly smitten by the Entaian princess who overflowed with a kindness and compassion he had never known. He’d followed her around like a lovesick puppy whenever they were alone, but was too insecure and uncertain to express his feelings for her. Breathless and bewildered, his heart raced when she wordlessly grasped his hand one evening. Lotor had never forgotten the exhilaration of that affectionate touch, as they quietly soaked in the idyllic sunset, hand-in-hand. 

While the dappled sunlight danced along the water’s surface, however, the weeping worlwoods and wistful waterfall swept him into a melancholic nostalgia. The enamoured prince had concealed their nascent relationship on her home world, ever wary of stoking Zarkon’s wrath, ever finding inventive ways to keep their intimate secret. He had naively hoped that if his father could see reason in partnering with her people, then perhaps he could one day be free to declare his love for her. Having worked furiously toward that goal, and having pinned all of his hope on that fated visit, Lotor exhaled tremulously to remember. How devastatingly wrong he had been. 

That he had made love to her in the hidden lagoon had been a grave risk, but he had been lost in the moment, head-over-heels. She’d told him she loved him for the first time, and he had cherished that perfect memory for his entire life. He had replayed it thousands of times. Sometimes, he clung to it, the precarious difference between life and death, when hemmed in by hopelessness and beset by anguish. How liberating it was to be intimate out in the open now, without fear of reprimand or retribution. 

Lotor sat against the bank and pulled her astride him. His gaze wandered down to admire her lithe figure, lingering on her luscious curves, before he cupped her breast in one hand and mouthed the other. She fell into him, her strength sapped by pleasure, her sensual sighs drawn out by surprise. He slid his hand down her waist with tender caresses, before moving down to stroke her between her legs. She felt so soft as he sucked harder and plunged his fingers deeper into her; watching the arousal of her parted lips and lidded eyes, another surge of heat overtook him. 

Rubbing the head of his cock into her wet folds, he relished the brief anticipation of claiming her. He wanted to hear her cry for him. A slight smile crossed his lips as he was about to enter her but she suddenly summoned a ring of water tendrils to tightly grasp the base of his erection. Momentarily startled, he let go of her. Their eyes locked in playful seduction, she slid beneath the water. With a sly smile, she now took his member and massaged him between her breasts. The aciniform bubbles escaping her pursed lips and Elysian softness of her breasts was bewitching. This was quite possibly the sexiest thing he had ever seen, while her impromptu cock ring forced an exponential ecstasy and engorgement. Lotor again couldn’t suppress a quiet moan. 

She resurfaced, lips parted with desire, water dripping from her naked body, glistening under the midday sun. Both submerged by passion, she let him take her. Ven’tar gasped aloud as he penetrated her slowly, forcing apart her tight walls, flooding both of them with euphoria. Moving slowly in her, the world fell away. With every thrust, a rhapsodic rush. Rapturous. Resonant. “Too big,” she cooed, with pleading eyes, and trembling lips. Another flush of heat. He clutched her tighter, lost in her amber gaze. “M-more,” she cried. He took her harder. The coil of vine struck her clitoris with each thrust, hurling her into a hedonic high. Heady with bliss, she cried louder and clenched him tighter. With a surge of strength, he brought her in deeper and faster. As her toes curled and her back arched, she begged for him to come into her, spasming hard around him. With pent-up pleasure still bottlenecked by the ring, Lotor slammed deeper into her until he felt a soft burst, slinging her into a second, full-body orgasm. An electrifying torrential fire seized him then, as he found a long, hot release inside her. 

Breathlessly holding her to himself, he hadn’t thought it possible to climax with such intensity in such short succession. He fell back into the water, with her arms and legs still wrapped tightly around his neck and waist, and the inert tendrils suddenly relaxing their grip. 

Stunned once more, he finally said after a long pause, “Ven, when we made love before, it was not nearly as... as...” Lotor was at a loss for words, a tremendously rare occurrence for him. 

She hummed and held him tighter, feeling him still inside her. “Lotor,” she replied tenderly, “We were to keep a secret from your entire empire. I kept it quite tame to protect you.” A furtive smile crept across her face as she rested her brow against his. “Believe me, my love, I can make you cry much louder than this.”

After blinking a few times, Lotor wasn’t even sure he knew who she was anymore.


	12. Impermanent Paradise

A maelstrom of emotion welled up within. Exacting control and calculated precision had always been his modus operandi. Lotor could never afford to leave anything to chance. And yet, in a moment’s notice, Ven easily breezed past his defences, unfettered his deepest longings, and fulfilled his recessed fantasies. Her demure demeanour belied a gentle dominance, and this daring unpredictability was so irresistibly attractive. She was the first and only person he’d willingly submit to. His first love was everything he didn’t know he wanted, incomparably refined and ardently ambrosial. Previous partners merely left an unpleasant aftertaste now, treacle and trite, bitter and brassy. A reluctant retreat from the warm water soon became another fervent reprisal of their passion play, while the afternoon light slipped away unnoticed. 

Emerging from their arboreal sanctum, she led him by the hand onto a russet path, hidden beneath a delicate leafy lattice. It opened into a radiant glade, richly hued with violet and indigo blooms. He did notice in passing that there were no pink blossoms of any kind, which was rather unusual. Her quaint little cottage was nothing like the Entaian grand palais, but was modelled after her mother’s modest childhood home. Following just behind, brushing past the dense floral foliage, his gaze trailed down the nape of her neck, the curve of her waist, and the sway of her hips. Gods, he couldn’t get enough and wanted to taste her again. She sensed the slightest hesitation in his step and turned to look at him tenderly. 

With the veil of dusk descending over his new home, Lotor didn’t have much time to take it all in before she pulled him into bed with her. Suddenly enveloped in a mild scent of sea mist and dewbell blossoms, he was plunged into the past. At nightfall, he used to leave his royal guest quarters, and tread silently along the shadowed corridors taking a route he knew by heart. Tonight, he was met with same exhilarating rush he once felt as he would near her bedchambers; upon entering, her alluring fragrance would always be the first to embrace and comfort him. For the remainder of his life, he’d always feel a tinge of disappointment when his lovers failed to smell as sweet. 

“Ven,” he began tentatively, nuzzling her head, “perhaps this is childish, but this is not a dream, is it? Will you still be here in the morning? I feel as though I am forgetting something important, as often happens in dreams.”

Normally she might have giggled, but she knew Lotor had been stripped of everything he ever held dear. He was still deeply traumatized, feeling as though their reunion was too good to last.

She smiled sympathetically and laid her head on his chest. He gathered her tightly to himself. “I will still be here, my love,” she whispered with great affection. “The burdens you carried during your lifetime are no longer yours. That is the origin of your unsettled haze of feelings.”

“Do we simply stay here forever?”

“No, although, my existence differs from yours. This is a transient place. This citadel is a haven for those of us whose lives were prematurely cut short. We live the remainder of our natural lives here before we pass into the light. It is also a merciful existence, granting us the opportunity to reconcile and rectify any wrongdoing.”

“What happens once we pass into the light, as you say?”

“Our consciousness rejoins the collective energy of the universe. We are no longer ourselves then. I apologize for this bit of sad news, but it would have been crueller to keep it hidden from you.”

Lotor swallowed the lump in his throat and wondered how much time he had left with her. “Why...” he faltered a bit before he was able to continue. “Why are you different? How... have you stayed here for this length of time?”

“I am one of the council of elders, those who have been entrusted with the power of the white lions. My predecessor had been here since its inception. It is my duty to help heal what has been hurt but also to pass judgement on the life-givers who are in violation of our sacred laws. There is much history between our people I have yet to share with you.” She could tell he was trying to process all that she said but he was a bit distraught over their inevitable separation. She gently cupped his cheek and let her eyes fall over his lovely features. He was as beautiful as the first day she met him. 

“Do not languish too long in sorrow. You possess an extraordinary longevity,” she replied as she clasped his hands. “Together, we shall raise our child, and tend to those who suffer. We have lifetimes ahead of us. I’ll always be yours, no matter our destination.”

She could see the light return to his eyes, buoyed by the hope of her words. He gently kissed her head and exhaled deeply. 

“Will he be alright out there in the cold? He’s just a baby....”

“It is not quite like our physical lives used to be. There is no cold and no danger here. He will be just fine with Graymalkin, love.”

A wave of exhaustion overcame him then. For the first time in a very long time, he entered into a contented sleep.


	13. Moon Drops and Firebird Nests

Lotor awoke to a richly appetizing aroma emanating from the kitchen and a chorus of songbirds just outside his window. Squinting through the crisp morning light, he felt a permeating happiness to know exactly where he was. Relaxed and astoundingly refreshed, he turned to see his lover already awake, watching him from beneath the linens. She was quite fetching with only her eyes and antennae peeking out from under her covers. Though her mouth was hidden, he knew she was smiling.

“Good morning, Ven. What is so amusing?” he asked with a yawn.

“I have been watching you sleep for many vargas now,” came her dovelike coo.

Lotor stretched luxuriously and rubbed his eyes before taking her in his arms. “I apologize if I kept you from attending to any duties. You need not wait for me in the future, though I do not normally oversleep to such an extent.”

“You were alarmed I would not be here in the morning. I did not wish you any distress upon waking,” she said softly.

He looked at her with tender gratitude. “I admit I am still unaccustomed to such kindness.”

He watched the sheets fall away from her willowy figure as she sat up and drew his head against herself. Lotor willingly complied as she stroked his hair. The first time she had done so caught him by surprise. On a morning not unlike this one, after their first night together, he had reflexively caught her hand and cringed with aversion. She looked at him with such compassion, however, that he immediately relaxed his grip and wordlessly conceded to her. She laid his head against her bare chest, and continued to stroke his hair as they casually conversed. The lull of her beating heart, the resonant vibrato of her voice, the gentle brush of her hand, and the softness of her breasts amounted to the deepest intimacy he would ever know. Subsequent acts of sexual congress with others had never again brought a comparable closeness. 

“Do not fret, I was not neglectful this morning. I have prepared your favourite foods to whet your appetite, washed your clothing, and set out a new wardrobe for you. If it is not to your liking, we may select from a wide variety of robes. As I noticed you stirring, I returned to your side to ensure a pleasant awakening.” He had been plagued by several nightmares that night, though she was relieved his sleep remained uninterrupted. 

Lotor bolted upright before she had even finished speaking, to her peals of laughter. His childlike excitement had not changed in the slightest. He still loved Entaian moon drops after all these millennia. They were an artisanal delicacy served only during the lunar festivals. Nocturnal water flowers only bloomed under the light of the full moons; with gelatin tediously extracted from those rare pond lily leaves, and delicately sweetened with their equally scarce lily nectar, they were crafted into charming little translucent globes. Each succulent, bite-sized sphere enveloped an intricate floral embellishment of tiny edible flowers and the finest fruit extract. Witnessing the pure enjoyment on his face after his first taste, she spared no expense to procure the costly ingredients and make them for him throughout the year. 

Returning with a tray boasting an exquisite arrangement of Entaian fruit slices and moon drops afloat in a hollow coacxul shell of rosy milk, she happily set them before him. The chilled milk from coacxul fruit pulp was velvety rich, sweet, and slightly nutty, pairing beautifully with the mild fragrant flavour of the moon drops. A stunning variety of savoury firebird nests, pastries seasoned with sea salt and chicorice root, completed his fancy breakfast in bed. The carefully crafted pastries were teardrop shaped, based on their eponymous counterparts. At a closer glance, the little nests were adorned with colourful bird-shaped garnishes. Entaian meals were masterful works of art, and Lotor had always stopped to admire their beauty before he could even bear to take a first bite. They took such pleasure in simple things, and it was one of the reasons he adored their culture. 

“Ven, you always go to such extraordinary lengths for me. I cannot begin to sufficiently express my gratitude. This is almost too beautiful to eat.” The little orbs glistening in the sunlight looked more like jewels than breakfast.

She beamed. “Appreciation for life’s simplicities parallels appreciation of its grandeur and complexities.”

Lotor brushed her cheek lovingly with the back of his hand, content to fall in love with her again. She closed her eyes and clasped it with her own, immensely grateful for his presence. 

His first spoonful was heavenly and tremendously nostalgic. The manifest realization that they were finally together was now fully tangible, and to his astonishment, he found himself wiping away a few tears. She gave him a playful shove and a lovely Duchenne smile. 

“And you were afraid you had become too wayward. You are very much the same person with whom I fell in love: perhaps coloured, but certainly not corrupted by Zarkon and Haggar’s extraordinary maleficence. In fact, it is to your immense credit that you emerged from such pestilence as unspoiled as you are.”

Lotor was visibly moved by her admission. She had only ever seen him for who he was. The twinge of pain from recent betrayals seemed distant and remote now. After thoughtfully swallowing another bite, he said, “Thank you for never giving up on me... and for showing me the beauty of living.” Pausing again, he added, “How do you make them so pleasing to squish in one’s mouth? I could eat these all day long just for the texture.”

Ven winked. “Secret recipe.” She laughed when he furrowed his brows. “I would be happy to teach you how to make these.” 

Over breakfast, they reminisced on happier times together, laughing at all the ways their relationship had skirted the empire’s detection. She thought his swooning over every delicious bite was incredibly endearing and worth all her effort. He knew she loved moon drops as much as he did. But it never occurred to him until just then, that he had rarely seen her eat one because she had been saving them all for him. She had gotten out of bed, but he took her by the hand and held her fast. With a deep sigh, he fed her the last one from his spoon, and watched her melt with delight, her antennae curling with bliss. 

She was about to dab the drop of milk from her mouth when he tilted her chin toward him and licked it from her lips. Her taste was intoxicating. He pushed away the tray, and sitting on the edge of the bed, straddled her between his legs. Before he could pull her closer, however, she took his head in her hands.

“Come with me, my love,” she murmured into a chaste kiss on the lips. Allowing herself one last sultry glance at his beautifully taut physique, she lead him by the hand. She opened a door to what he assumed was the washroom, only to emerge behind the same waterfall he had seen yesterday. Without another word, she pulled him into a languorous kiss under a warm cascade of water.

The oppressive stillness of the air was pleasant and dream-laden. Plumes of sea mist rose up around them, enchanting their senses with a tender lull. As Ven pressed her body and rocked her hips into his, a heavy heat rose within, hypnotic and halcyon. Picking her off the ground, he pushed her against the wall and spread her legs. He sighed as she massaged his stiff neck and battle-worn shoulders while he rubbed against her entrance with his hard arousal. Perhaps it was the water, or the pressure point she pressed, but his grip relaxed just for a moment as he was about to enter her and she slipped out his grasp. She was elusive as she was ethereal. He caught her again, stumbling into the adjacent field of flowers, but a moment later, he found himself on his knees in a bed of soft mosses. 

“Ven, you are an exceptional tease,” Lotor gasped with exasperation as she entangled him with her forest vines. “And is it quite necessary to restrain me once again?”

“If only to pleasure you into oblivion, my love,” she purred, before brilliant blue whispers whisked him into a languid haze. At the touch of her hand, he felt his upper body sink to the ground. Now on his hands and knees, he couldn’t understand how she had compelled him forward, but the back massage she was giving him was sublime. Slowly, she worked her way down his muscular back, kneading each knot, releasing all his tension. She was so soothing, he didn’t really notice her gently part his legs or the thick cloud of sapphire relaxant enveloping him. Tracing kisses down his backside, and running her hands up his thighs, the shock of her hot, wet tongue across his starfished entrance caused him to tense but he was tied down and couldn’t retreat. Legs splayed apart, and skin taut, he was exceptionally sensitive. Slowly, sensually, each sweep of her tongue brought swells of pleasure and each breath of her blue cocktail prolonged them. Lotor groaned in surrender. 

“Oh gods, Ven, you make me want you...”

She lapped him harder in turn, until he pleaded for more. Hands full of lubricant, she stroked his throbbing erection and delivered a dizzying high. Hands fisted, brow knitted, and mouth parted, he moaned loudly.

“Fuck, please, mnnnh...”

Suddenly penetrating him with her tongue, and lapping his inner gland, she dovetailed him into delirium, relishing the way he cried and clenched around her. As he started to tremble in a feverish dive, she eased the pressure of her hands and withdrew her tongue, deftly inserting a string of knotted vines in its stead.

“Let me have you, Ven. Take me inside you,” he panted breathlessly.

With a soft push, she guided him onto his back, and straddled him. He pulled her hips down to penetrate her, but she forced his mouth open and jammed her thumb between his molars. 

“Ven, wha...”

“Cry for me, Lotor,” she commanded as she thrust her hips down onto him. 

He had no choice. She rode him hard. With his mouth wedged open, his body already inundated by a deluge of pleasure, and her obedient vines writhing inside him, his loud cries echoed throughout the cove. As his breathing became ragged, and his voice shrill, she granted his first release. 

“Spill your seed into me,” she breathed as she pulled out the first knot. That whiplash of ecstasy sent him over the edge. “Fuck, you’re making me come,” he gasped as his back arched and he grasped her hips tightly. The wispy bluebell mist would keep him at the brink of climax, however, as she pulled out the second knot, and then the third, slamming down into him relentlessly. “Come again,” she ordered. Lotor cried louder as a second nirvanic vertigo consumed him. 

Ven’tar laid down on top of him as he untangled himself from her retreating tendrils. He breathlessly held her to him, still shuddering involuntarily. 

“See, my love,” she said mischievously. “I had to hold back once upon a time or they would have discovered our secret.” She giggled. “But even I did not expect you to be so loud.”

“Ven,” he replied incredulously, “are you some sort of... how do you... what...”

“Our people wrote many books on sex. Although it seems to be popular throughout the universe now, we were the originators of tantric sex. You have many lifetimes of pleasure ahead of you.”

Lotor became a bit weak at this revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HC Lotor to like black licorice so entaian chicorice roots are supposed to have an anise flavour. Coacxul fruits resemble coconuts in flavour. Moon drops are basically a super fancy tapioca coconut dessert. Lol.


	14. Feverish Furlough

Since his arrival, the bittersweetness of finally being free to love her was not lost on him. He was wearily amused to think that perhaps he could have given up sooner, had he known that all his effort would amount to nothing. However, he had the wherewithal to know that was not truly who he was. Lotor sighed. Ven’tar was an exquisitely rare jewel, refined and polished by the teachings of her people. The spoken word was revered and respected. Theirs was a culture of few words. Because of this belief, they were some of the most remarkably observant people he had ever met. She had seen his heart right from the very beginning. Every expression, every gesture, every word, and every inflection gave her an open window into his soul. He could never hide anything from his exceptionally perceptive partner, and she took on any of his pain, as if it were her own. She never lumped him in with any other Galra, least of all his father. It was a fair feat that she knew the names of every Galra soldier she encountered, despite their obscured faces, and remembered all of their preferences.

The thought of having lost her for so long coaxed a hollow ache to the surface. She embodied the same values that he cherished, and housed a deeper connection to his people than he knew. She would have been the perfect bridge to peace and prosperity. Having truly never met another like her in his torturously long life, he huffed a little to think she had probably tempered his distaste for the garrulous and verbally garish.

Ven was currently showing him how to fasten his regal attire, and the formalities of which fold came first, but he had difficulty focusing on the task at hand. He was, in fact, still attempting to climb down from the heady rush of restraints and submission. It was intoxicating to lose that bit of control, unaware of her next intention, completely subject to her whim. Her fluttering sea-green gown flattered her lithe figure and accentuated her exotic beauty, her bare midriff teasing every intemperate impulse within him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. As she ran her hands along his torso to straighten his shirt, he sharply inhaled; he could only think of how they felt pleasuring him just a short while ago. Feeling him tense under her touch, she raised her head to meet his gaze, her hand still resting on his chest. In that moment, he held such desperate desire, it silenced the world around her except for her heart pounding in her ears. Impossible to calm the fire in her chest, unspoken longing drew them into a sensual kiss.

She was completely lost in a sweet caress of saffron skies and serendipity. Softly, at first, then an avalanche of passion took her breath away. Want, skidding downhill into a slalom of need, she clasped his head and feverishly returned his affection. Stumbling backward, lips locked together, knocking nearby garments askew on the floor, he hastily slid off her gossamer gown, as she unfastened his clothing. Picking her up and setting her back down along the spine of the nearest divan, she gasped at her precarious position. 

“Lotor! I might fall!” 

A wicked smirk crossed his face before he crossed her long legs, further confusing her equilibrium. With opposing ankles set over his shoulders, Ven was forced to throw her arms back to steady herself. Though Lotor didn’t need toys or chemical enhancement, he too, was rebelliously creative. Her limber body superbly tense with trepidation, taut as a stringed lute, she trembled and trilled as he slid his stiff cock into her. He paused briefly to admire her sexy, slender legs, running his hands down her thighs, groaning to feel her wound so tightly around his tumescence. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he breathed as he pressed deeper into her, pulling her hips against him. As he started to move in her, Lotor didn’t hold back. The forced flexion throughout her body already coiling her toward climax, every heart pounding thrust edged her closer to the breaking point.

“Ah, Lotor, please no...” she panted between staccato breaths, not knowing how much more she could take.

“No? I know you want this, Ven,” he smiled coquettishly, licking his thumb before reaching down between her legs to stroke her soft bud. 

She completely unravelled under that furious jeté, multiple waves of ricocheted pleasure coursing through her at once. Her melodic cries sent shivers down his spine, as he clutched her hips and came into her. Lotor gathered her into his lap as he sat down on the couch, holding her snugly as she quivered against him.

“I hope you did not have obligatory deadlines today,” he chuckled. “We have not even made it out the door and it is already mid-morning.”

“I have been granted furlough,” she replied breathlessly. “Perhaps we may arrive in time afternoon tea,” she giggled as she rested her head against his shoulder and took in his scent. “By the way, you were not paying attention when I was helping you dress, were you?”

He gasped in mock consternation. “I resent that implication. Of course I was paying attention.” 

“Lotor, you are not a very good liar.”

“I am so,” he simpered and nuzzled his nose into her cheek as she laughed. “Though I know there is very little I can hide from you,” he continued softly, taking her delicate hand in his.

“Furthermore, you are going to get it for setting me on that ridiculous edge and almost making me fall!”

“Are you going to tie me up again?”

“I... I don’t know yet!” she said with exasperation.

“Alright,” he whispered as he brushed his lips down her cheek before tilting her chin to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ah, wanted to write about the citadel, and the council, and explore the surrounding area a bit. These two, however, can’t keep their hands off each other, and have delayed that chapter. AGAIN.


	15. A Twist of Fate

Taking in the reluctant creak of the wooden floor underfoot, the intricately hand-crafted cathedral windows, and the redolent medley of thistlewood and rain, Lotor was enveloped in a wistful nostalgia for a time and place he had never known. Stepping outside into the warm sun, and squinting through the dazzling rays, he wondered aloud, “Ven, you had mentioned that the parchment appeared when you willed it, as did your preferred surroundings. I remain un... convinced as to what is ostensibly physical and tangible. Was our breakfast real for example?” It was still too good to be true and he was perpetually wary of being stripped of it all.

Ven’tar covered her mouth and laughed heartily. “The transfer of energy from our conscious thought is not constrained by the same boundaries as it was during our physical lives. This is an alternate plane of existence, not unlike that of the consciousness of the Voltron lions. I assure you it is all quite real.”

He nodded pensively and did not question how she would know about such a thing. To anyone else, he might have turned his back to hide his emotion, but to Ven’tar, he laid down his defences. As he grasped her forearms and pulled her to him, cheek to cheek, he murmured, “Before we head toward the citadel, I should like to remain here for a little while longer.” Loath to let go, he lingered for a while, burying his face into her neck and feeling her delicate warmth pressed against him.

“Lotor,” she hesitated, before looking at him tenderly. She had been about to playfully chastise him for making her wait nearly ten millennia to see him, so what was a few more moments? As she scanned his face, however, she understood his reasons. “You wish to sit with the blossom and be at his side?” 

He nodded wordlessly. She turned to leave and allow him some privacy but he held her fast. “Remain with me?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” she smiled as she affectionately touched his arm. Together they sat along the riverbank, soothed by the trickling water, and warmed under the sun. Graymalkin grunted as he was forced to make room for them.

The expectant father sighed deeply as he sat down and began to tell of all his adventures, his struggles, his heartache, and his regrets. He promised to be a better father than his own emotionally absent and abusive parents. And he broke down expressing the immense awe and gratitude he felt at this serendipitous second chance. This would be the first of many father-son moments before the arrival of their child. Before long, though Lotor had been bled dry of any remnant hope before his death, hope returned to him and with it, a pervasive happiness that had always eluded him. 

He gently kissed the giant flower after many hours of candid disclosure, feeling a massive weight lift from his chest. Feeling uplifted and refreshed he asked when they could expect the child’s arrival given this unconventional situation. It was not unlike an Altean folklore tale, he chuckled. 

“His development resumed the moment you came before me. As he would have arrived thirty movements from that fateful day, so it shall also be now.”

“Well, I can certainly say this is not a dream. I am never so fortunate to have such pleasant ones,” he grinned. “Though the anticipation is nearly overwhelming, I am perfectly content to spend the interim with you.”

His partner laughed. Lotor, the collected and calculating prince admitting that he was so excited he could barely wait. It was exceptionally endearing. 

“It would seem that you will be seeing more of me, Graymalkin,” Lotor began. “Perhaps then, you would allow me to befriend you?”

The large cat remained unimpressed and issued a low growl before turning away and ignoring him. 

Ven’tar laughed and set her hand on her large and stubborn charge. 

“Ven, how is it that our people have such similarities, right down to the white lion, yet I was never aware of it all? The centuries I spent researching the mysteries of Oriande made no mention of a sister race.”

His beloved blinked rapidly as her jubilation evaporated and her countenance fell. She paused to speak but hesitated, for his sake more than for her own.

“Are you alright?” Lotor asked with alarm. “Have I upset you somehow?”

She shook her head as she took his hand in hers. Looking toward the eastern horizon, she said solemnly, “Were you aware that your powers and your Altean markings can be transferred?”

“No, I had no such knowledge.”

“Long ago,” she began, “when our world was still young, and our ancient mother still walked among us, our ancestors were visited by yours. Shifting shape to appear as our own, they were able to earn our trust and establish a trade colony. Ancient mother fell in love with their leader and together they established a grand alliance. He had always been awed and captivated by her power but objected to the restrictions by which our people abided. His sights were set ever higher with regard to the astounding potential of the life givers and he believed he alone could bring peace to the universe.

Lotor listened with rapt attention as he could already guess where the story was headed. It was difficult to believe, in fact; so long had he revered his Altean heritage as pure and beautiful. It represented everything that the Galra empire was not. As he discovered himself very recently, absolute power could so easily corrupt even the most well-intentioned individual. 

“She became gravely ill, and naively believing his every word, from the depths of her great love and affection, granted him her very power with a kiss. She only discovered after her death she had been poisoned, her throne usurped, and her power stolen. Oriande was created on the backs of my people to seal those secrets and once their magic capabilities had been exhausted, they were discarded. Without our ancient mother, her teachings could only be written and passed down by memory, but knowledge of how to use the power within us was lost. 

“Ven, how can this be? Who was this treacherous usurper?”

“My love, he was the very Altean after whom you are named, Lotarius.”

“But Lotarius was an explorer! The legends of old say nothing about even encountering your people.”

“It was stricken from the records, yes. For history, my love, is written by the victors. He was no explorer. Explorers do not preach diplomacy while infiltrating new lands in disguise, nor do they interfere at all with native peoples and species.”

“I do not doubt you, Ven, but it is so difficult to believe.”

She nodded sympathetically and allowed him time to process his shock. After a long while, he finally said, “I... I suppose I did find it strange that Oriande so brutally and mercilessly took the lives of any trespasser. It was an exceptionally well-guarded secret.”

“Did you also find it odd that some Alteans were more magical than others, and always residing within the monarchy? The secret of Oriande would only ever be revealed to the current Altean ruler after their coronation and thus, the greatest power in the universe would always be concentrated in the hands of a few.”

“Then how was I able to access Oriande? I am not of royal Altean blood.”

“Are you not? Lotor, in all of your travels, have you ever encountered any Altean commoner with silvery white locks such as yours? The same snow-white hair was first seen on your ancestor, and greatly prized for its beauty and purity. You are a relative of the royal class, my love.”

“Then, the Mark of the Chosen is...”

“Nothing more than a birthright.” 

Much of what Lotor had cherished came crashing down around him. He was shaken to the core. To hold the Altean half of his heritage with such high esteem had given him hope for his entire life, hope to escape the barbarism of his father’s reign and defeat it. Even in the afterlife, it remained a source of pride and honour. Who was he now that both halves stemmed from nothing but worthless, megalomaniacal tyrants?

Ven’tar knew of his struggles and felt it was time to finally tear down the lies to build him back up in truth. His emotional instability had been based on a shaky foundation of blood and inheritance. It was time to help him discover who he truly was, and refine that diamond in the rough she had always seen from the beginning. 

After a long silence, Lotor choked out an apology. “It would seem that your people have been destroyed by my ancestors twice. A mere apology can do nothing to rectify it... had you told me sooner, I would not have dared to ask for your hand.” He couldn’t bear to meet her eye.

She took his hand in return. “Perhaps. However, Lotor look at me. They were saved in the end because you defied your father and dared to love me. You are defined by neither your Altean or your Galran halves, you are you. And it is you with whom I fell in love. This was written in our history but I waited until your wounds had sufficiently healed so as not to break open and hemorrhage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay! Hit a rough patch in life but it’s all good now.


	16. Sacrificial Justice

In a rustling of leaves and a flurry of soot, Graymalkin suddenly growled as he sprung to his feet. More nimble than his size would suggest, he hurtled full tilt toward something beyond the trees. Ven had never seen him act in such a manner before, so docile had he been until now, so she rushed forward to pacify him. 

“Calm yourself, Gray. What is all the commotion about?”

Her giant cat rumbled reluctantly and huffed in resignation, but his mane stood on end as he paced impatiently behind her, flicking his great tail. Finally satisfied that the threat had subsided, Graymalkin returned to Lotor’s side. Ven’tar tried to call out but no one answered.

“I do not know what has gotten into him,” she sighed, slightly flustered. “He has never acted like this before. I can’t imagine what could possibly rile him in such a way. It is a peaceful existence here. There is no danger.”

“Should we investigate?”

“He can lead us to his source of strife.” She turned to her cat to ask but he refused to budge. After several attempts Ven’tar decided it was best to leave him be. 

“I have been wondering,” Lotor began, “Of the trillions of sentient life forms that exist and pass on to this plane, how did I arrive in this exact place before you? Surely not every being arrives here or conditions would be excessively crowded.”

“This plane mirrors the physical plane of the universe. Every person returns to their home planet.” She smiled tenderly as she brushed his cheek. “You must have thought of this as your home to have returned to me.”

He kissed her cheek in return. The implications were astounding. Very few even knew of this planet’s existence. Even fewer would know how to arrive here. He would never have to lay eyes on Zarkon or the witch again should he so desire.

“Could someone find me if they wanted to?”

“Do you speak of your father, love?”

“Perhaps.”

“He is already gone, returned to the energy of the universe. His life was stretched so thinly across time, beyond what was natural, that he ceased to exist the moment he died a second time.”

“Oh, I see.” This revelation failed to appease the furor within. It merely brought a pervasive emptiness. There was no redemption. No reconciliation. No revenge. No justification. No justice. There was simply... nothing. “I should have liked to see him take responsibility for his crimes against the universe,” he heard himself say.

“Justice may come in many forms, love. History will not look kindly upon him. No one will remember him fondly, not even his own kin, even if... he was merely dancing under the command of a puppeteer.”

“Is that truly what happened to him? I had wondered why he and Haggar required so much quintessence to sustain themselves. He was but a shell of his former self, then? I had suspected corruption from the quintessence field though had I but known...” he trailed off as he turned away from her.

She waited in silence with him. The corruption of his parents was a chasmic tragedy. He wanted to hate them, he needed someone to blame for all of the pain, but there was no such relief. It was infuriating. 

After a long time sitting on the riverbank, he felt her clasp his hand. “Would you like to know what the rift creatures are?” she ventured. 

“Do you know such a thing?” he asked incredulously.

“They are the distorted echoes of once splendid people who fell prey to the lust of power and vengeance. They comprise the tortured spirits of those denied entrance to this paradise, forever banished to the space between realities, driven mad by the sheer concentration of quintessence. The council here could not have foreseen the Usurper’s power would be used to slice through reality itself, thus releasing chaos and destruction. The Elders have long since stopped the practice of exile, choosing instead to purify, but irreparable harm has already been done.” 

“Purify? Is that a charitable practice or something more ominous?”

Ven smiled sadly. He had been so accustomed to suspicion and accusation, he automatically assumed the worst. Purity and purification to him were epithets. However, in this case, he was not necessarily wrong.

“Should you seek justice, then, perhaps it is the closest form of it. I stand on the council as the Lion’s Magistrate. It is my civic duty to purify the rift creatures who enter this domain via their sentient hosts. During the process, evil is distilled and destroyed. However, in doing so, the Accused bear the full weight of the pain and anguish caused to every being they’ve harmed. When their eyes are opened to the light, the burden is so colossal that they collapse and forfeit their lives.”

“Do you mean their existence is extinguished then?”

“Yes.”

“Are you alright doing this, Ven? That is an extraordinarily difficult task.”

“It is a relief to end the suffering and an act of mercy, my love.” He noticed she said these words mechanically, as if she had rehearsed them many times in a bid to convince herself.

“Did you purify my father’s manipulator, then? Were you alright facing your... murderer?”

“I shall never forget,” she whispered as her bottom lip quivered. “Its crimes were among the weightiest I have ever encountered. The blood of billions was on its hands. It... was highly distressing to torture it so. I do not wish harm on any, not even those who have wronged me.”

She broke down in tears then. He had longed for justice and vengeance for so long, that it never occurred to him just how much damage would be done to the one to mete it out. He held her close to him for a long time. He regretted ever allowing thoughts of retribution to trespass. Lotor’s life changed that day. She had polished that diamond in the rough with her tears and sacrifice. And she was a panacea for every heartache and wound and brought healing to his inner sanctum. As he felt her warmth and softness against him, he realized that all his life, his detractors had perverted purity, embittering and poisoning its meaning. Until now. He was holding purity in his arms and nothing else in the world was more beautiful to him in that moment.


	17. Vernal Luminary

Caressed in a warm, westerly wind, Lotor stopped mid-stroll as they headed toward the Capital. Though many gentle drafts had welcomed him since his arrival, this one fully reconciled millennia of weatherworn pining with wistful nostalgia. 

“What is it, love?” Ven asked.

“Zephyr,” he exclaimed with wonder and delight.

She paused, not understanding why he was so excited about the breeze, until a moment later when it was suddenly clear. The Entaian springtime wind was so revered for ushering in new life, that it had its own festival. The Föhn wind was unique to her region: ocean currents rising above the crested peaks of the mountain ranges would sweep storm clouds into a magnificent arch across the sky. Accumulating warmth as it tumbled down the mountainside, it would awaken springtime blooms and overwintering beasts alike. She laughed and embraced him. Lotor wanted to name their child after the gentlest west wind. 

She tenderly kissed him. Forgetting all about the turmoil from a few moments ago, she said slyly, “I love it. Though do not forget that I have had a ten millennia head start to think of names. I have many for our second child.” 

He froze again mid stride. “It is possible to have more children here?”

“Why not?”

“I assumed that more lives could not be created in this existence.”

“Oh, my love. Tragedy and perversity are no longer strange bedfellows in the afterlife. And Zephyr is perfect. I had much difficulty finding the right one for this child.”

The relief on his face was palpable as he laughed. “You have numerous alternatives for a second theoretical child but not our first extant one?!”

“Firstborn are difficult,” she pouted. “Perhaps our second child may be Selenne.”

“You wish to name her after the moon?” he sighed, deeply moved. He had taught her the meaning of ‘selenic’ one night as they lay together under the stars. And she knew he relished every part of the moon festival. 

The mild evening filled him with happiness as he warmly greeted every person he saw and was exceptionally enthused when he encountered the descendants of those he had known previously. They were equally thrilled to finally meet him. It had been no secret among them that their cherished princess loved him, and that he was her intended. Though the Galra had been oblivious to their forbidden affair, very little escaped the notice of her people. Their ancestors had mourned with his grief, knowing the Destroyer had exterminated his mother’s people, like he did theirs. Stories of their star-crossed love passed from generation to generation and despite the loss of many to the ancillary war efforts, theirs was a transcendent bond that ultimately saved the majority of their people. Even Lotor’s fondness for their Vernal and Lunar festivals had become legendary. Finally, their union restored and rectified the ill-gotten gains of Lotarius, the Usurper. Denigrated, derided, and disposed of in his former life, Lotor was now welcomed as one of their own. 

“Ven, why is the springtime festival happening now? Is it not midsummer?”

She giggled and whispered in his ear. “It is to celebrate your arrival, love. We all know how much you enjoy them.”

“And you knew of this?”

She smiled knowingly and nodded.

He was absolutely floored. No wonder she had been trying to bring him here all day. Even her delectable breakfast had hinted at it. But it wasn’t long before he overcame his shock and headed straight for the sumptuous buffet table. The chicorice pastries he had had earlier in the day, were in fact, exclusive to this festival as were many of the other dainty confections. He appreciated the artistry of incorporating both seasonal elements and interpretations of the wind. 

Flutter silk was finely spun crystalline strands of nectar wrapped delicately around edible blooms that melted luxuriously in the mouth. A carefully cultivated yeast was reserved to make light and airy cakes fried in vellumfruit oil, tediously extracted from its thick rinds. The subtle citrus flavour paired beautifully with the jelly dip made from the fruit itself. Faery cakes and flutter silk were also among Lotor’s favourites.

With his heart full and his belly even fuller, they sat together under a midnight tapestry of sequinned stars, quietly enjoying each other’s company. Today had been fraught with conflicting emotions but as surely as the moons would rise and the stars would continue shining, their lives were complete once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... flutter silk and faery cakes are cotton candy and mini doughnuts. Because every culture on earth has their own version of a doughnut, and I swear to god, every alien culture does too. 
> 
> And I guess I could have invented names, Altean, Entaian or whatnot... but they speak English, for unknown (colonialist) reasons, and... there’s so much poetry and beauty in one language, why not explore and embrace it? Ha. Zephyr and Selene are Greek Gods. Why the hell not.


	18. Cycle of Vengeance

Lotor felt a pang of heartache to see the majestic old palace hadn’t changed at all, and that everything was just as he remembered. Had it been rebuilt with difficulty, he wondered. Ven’tar had taken him to her private balcony where they had shared many fond memories together many ages ago. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, tonight?” she asked softly.

“Indeed I did, thank you, Ven,” he began. “Though I admit I do not recall ever having so many people offer me edibles at every turn. I have never eaten so much all at once in my life.”

The sweet trill of her laughter warmed his heart. It was one of his favourite things about her. He contentedly watched her throw her head back under the moonlight, his gaze drifting over the crinkle of her eyes, and the curve of her cheek. The same ache welled up inside once more. The agony of separation had cut him so deeply for so long, he never wanted to be apart from her again. He had missed her voice, her scent, her kindness, and everything about her. Gathering her in his arms, he kissed her head and held her tightly to himself for a long time. 

And then quite without permission, the tears fell. He had been beaten as a child if he ever cried and showed weakness. Zarkon had unequivocally abhorred his tears so he had learned quickly never to show any emotion. But now, in the safety of this sanctum, unspoiled by the evil that had ravaged his existence, an eternity of suffering, pain, and betrayal flooded past all the barriers and levees he had ever erected. With the resultant shame in outwardly shedding his grief and sorrow, an apology tumbled out through the tears. “Please forgive... my indiscretion.”

“Lotor,” she sighed with great compassion, “It is alright to cry. Never apologize for being vulnerable with me. And besides, I cried today too. So we are even.”

He chuckled a bit and her words came back to him then. “...Inveighed against and branded a traitor, all falls away for our love is greater.” He hadn’t fully understood at the time because everything had been so overwhelming. Now that he knew their history better, and that she saw his worth without the baggage of bloodlines, her love staunched the bleeding. 

“It will take time, love. You have been deeply scarred and wounded. Perhaps some may never truly heal, only to break open at the slightest word. Should that happen, I will always be here to assist your healing,” she whispered as she tenderly wiped away his tears.

He nodded, unable to say anything in return. The gentle purr of her voice reminded him of Kova’s purring, a source of constant comfort when he had had no one else. His minded wandered as he remembered his old companion when he jolted upright. This place was like a dream and he felt as though he was constantly forgetting something. He sniffled and asked, “I had neglected to ask you, you spoke of warwraiths and bloodlust. Were... were you referring to Zarkon or events transpiring after I arrived here? Is there a way to find out if more lives have been lost? Has the witch been defeated?”

“Oh no, my love, the warwraith was awoken by the paladins of Voltron.”

“Come again?”

“Did it ever seem strange to you that Alfor created a war machine to subdue conflict and quell revolution when the first mandate of the Altean people is peace and diplomacy?”

“I suppose it is...” he trailed off. “Alfor’s legacy has always been revered throughout the universe. But I suppose it is... strange.” He had just taken it for granted; history unanimously praised the era of peace ushered in by Voltron, the legendary defender.

“Did it seem contradictory at Oriande, that all ships, whether friend, foe or passerby were immediately exterminated without any warning? Is that a true measure of peace or diplomacy?”

“I assumed it was to protect the secret of the life givers...” he started, starkly aware of the rank hypocrisy now. Life givers killing others to protect the secret of giving life. 

Staring distantly into the horizon, Ven continued angrily, “Did it make sense for a paladin of Voltron to take your life with her life-giving powers?” 

“Oh, is that what happened? I had not known how that energy burst came to be.”

“Alfor created Voltron to maintain power over the people, as Altea was on the brink of revolution to overthrow the monarchy. Altea’s expanding Hand of Peace achieved via trades missions, colonialism, infiltration, and espionage caused turmoil and conflict throughout the galaxy. The people on other worlds with established Altean colonies were heavily taxed to fund its scientific advances. Believe me love, no civilization can sustain prolonged conflict and war and achieve such glorious scientific advancement without sacrifice.”

“Ven, this is the first time I’ve heard any of this! How is this possible?”

“Zarkon destroyed libraries and historical records in every world he conquered; for knowledge is power, and power is revolution.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“Do you know how Voltron was created? Do you know why Alfor kept it a secret even from his own daughter?”

Lotor shook his head. He was speechless.

“Allura breathed life into your Sincline ships but it was a singular life-force. Alfor, however, was a prodigy. He took a Graymalkin and weaponized its constituent components by forcibly separating it into the five lions of Voltron. Just as the rain breaks apart white light into the colours of a rainbow, so he also did with a white lion.”

“I was not aware that was even possible.”

“It was because he lacked the ability to control it. However, I believe his hope was to allow his daughter to continue his legacy; in connecting her life-force with Voltron, in granting her the heart of the five lions, he effectively armed her with the most powerful weapon in the universe in the hope that she could ultimately tame it.”

“So it is true then? I would have had no chance of defeating them with my ships?”

“I do not know, love. Strategy may overcome sheer power.”

“Then they must have defeated Haggar with ease?” he asked hopefully. “But you mentioned the warwraith had been awoken. What... were you referring to?”

“Alfor perverted the protector of life into a weapon of death. The separate lions still maintain some semblance of their original spirit but are not complete. It is why they are able to take on immoral pilots even as they seek singular noble qualities. In doing so, he has ensured the cycle of vengeance, hatred, and war. In claiming your life out of vengeance, Voltron once again stoked the fires of calamity and bloodshed by declaring war on the Galra empire. Many lives have been lost as your mother tears apart the universe trying to find you. Many more will perish at her hand when she discovers your fate. Sendak will ravage the earth and billions will die. Anarchy will spread across the universe as those vying for control in the power vacuum exploit the vulnerable.”

“Trying to find me, you say?”

“Yes, love. You are the only one she seeks now.”

Lotor exhaled deeply and ran his hand down his face in exhaustion. It was a horrifying bedlam he had worked so hard to avoid. Utter chaos, complete madness. A super-weapon in the hands of babes. When he finally looked up at her he had a sudden realization. “Does this mean the white lion under your care has capabilities exceeding those of Voltron?”

“Yes, love. It is why I know all these events. Time and space manipulation are within its power. And unlike the haphazard trials of the Altean ancients guaranteeing inheritance by blood, I was appointed by my predecessor. For with immensurate power, follows commensurate responsibility.”

Lotor sighed again. “You have turned my world upside-down, Ven. I am not even certain which way is up anymore.” 

She stood up and took his hand, “Come and rest with me, then. We may speak more tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Allura shot first, that first shot by any standard today was a declaration of war. According to the Geneva conventions, a declaration of war is a crime of aggression, by and large one of the worst war crimes possible. War is considered to be an incomparable evil, to be avoided at all costs. Having spoken to a veteran about this, any military personnel, anyone in uniform is trained in the Geneva conventions and signs an oath to uphold them. They always apply when that uniform is on. 
> 
> The paladins should have had that training as fighter pilots. By executing/assassinating/murdering Lotor without so much as a fair trial, or proper forensic investigation (Keith and Krolia were not medical personnel, and did not have the credentials to pronounce death or determine cause of death) they are all war criminals in my books. They essentially staged a coup during a peace treaty and installed Keith as leader.
> 
> So good thing we’re writing about Ven, who is not perpetually salty like Quixy is. Ven is a better person than I am.


	19. Second Chances

That night, Lotor’s fitful sleep was plagued by nightmares. Ven’tar lay beside him and watched with churning regret. She too, had been powerless to save him from his parents when they had been together, and now into the afterlife, he still carried unspeakable pain and trauma. She had never fully forgiven herself for failing to do more and wondering what she could have done differently. And with wholesale slaughter sweeping the realm of the living, it was infuriating to be stranded in this paradise, unable to help. She wished she could consult with the Ancient Mother for advice. Perhaps there was a way to breach the divide. Voltron had dismantled the nascent peace Lotor had so arduously established and distorted the balance of the universe. She would approach the council today with her proposal. Surely there had to be some recourse. With all these thoughts running through her head, she finally fell into a restless sleep.

She awoke in the morning to a richly appetizing aroma. Entering the kitchen, she clasped her hand over her mouth and giggled at Lotor’s misshapen chicorice nests. She was pleasantly surprised when she tried one, as it was actually quite tasty. And he had added an ingredient that she couldn’t identify, but that enhanced the flavour. 

As she stretched and yawned, she looked out the window and noticed him sitting cross-legged outside by the large blossom, studiously doing something. She watched him laugh, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, as he showed the uninterested feline his work. Slipping on her dressing gown, she tread softly outside, enjoying the feel of the cool, dew-kissed grasses underfoot. 

“Lotor,” she gasped as numerous sketches of the white lion and the flower came into view, “These are beautiful. I was unaware you were an artist.”

“It became a source of succour after... unfavourable events, particularly after your passing...” he admitted after a moment of hesitation. He had been about to dismiss his own work, but decided he wanted to be candid with her. “The only thing I regret not being able to bring with me, were all of my life-like renderings... of you.” There was perhaps one more thing he would have liked to keep, but at the moment, he couldn’t recall what it was.

“I regret having to speak of such upsetting news that you had to resort to drawing again,” she smiled sadly. 

He shook his head. “It is what it is.”

At that moment, the giant cat grunted and very briefly nuzzled its great head under his arm nearly knocking him over.

“Is there room for one more?” she cried as she flung herself at both of them, and pushed them down. 

The lion wasn’t having any of it. Here, he had attempted to console the new guy, and now he was being interrupted. His thunderous roar shook the ground and he pushed Ven into the little brook. Satisfied he had made Lotor laugh, he gave one last nudge before he returned to his place by the bloom. 

Staggered, she marched her bedraggled self right over to the lazy lion and shook off all the excess water right onto him. He growled in retaliation and pushed her with his paw, as she swivelled around and pulled his tail before running away. She wasn’t quick enough before he swiped at her, throwing her off kilter right into Lotor’s lap. 

“Gray! That was uncalled for!”

The lion snorted in mock discontent and then huffed. 

After the two had had their fill of laughter, she looked at her partner lovingly and said, “Perhaps I neglected to tell you that I drowned my sorrows in poetry. Your fondness of it gave me the strength to keep you in my heart and to keep going.”

Lotor chuckled. “I had taken up drawing for the same reason.”

“I admit I couldn’t bring myself to do anymore after we were separated.”

“And I have not written a single poem since...” he stopped. Of course, how could he have forgotten? He had kept her first poem with him for millennia. “Since I discovered yours...”

Settling into a comfortable silence, she shifted into his embrace, neither wanting to linger in the past. Finally, she asked, “If you could do one thing differently, what would it be?”

“That is a simple question,” he sighed. “To change the course of events on the day my father so brutally destroyed this world. I should not have spoken out of turn; I have never forgiven myself for directly contributing to all of your deaths.”

“It was not your fault, my love. Though I share the same regret at failing to do more. I hesitated. I should have paralyzed them down.” 

“Gray,” Lotor asked casually, “Would you be so kind as to transport us back through time to rectify those wrongs? Ah, I am only teasing, if only it were possible.”

The mighty cat stood then and touched his head to theirs. Though no words were exchanged, they knew he was telling them he was incomplete. When Voltron and Oriande were one day dissolved, his fragmented spirit freed, and his being made whole once more, light and dark, space and time, life and death, creation and destruction, were all within his control.

They both froze, stupefied and astonished, unable to fully grasp the ramifications of such power, both terrified to ask again for confirmation. It was too good to be true. Did they have... an impossible second chance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hohohoho. Choose your own adventure time: go back in time to potential hardship, suffering, death, and war but save many lives OR choose to stay in a weird little paradise where you can’t remember things and everything is a little too perfect. And we also don’t know why there are no pink flowers yet.


End file.
